A Tale of What Might Have Been
by Cordelia Rosencrantz
Summary: What if the tradedy of Hamlet didn't end the way Shakespeare intended it to? What if Hamlet barely escaped Elsinore with his life only to find true love from another place and time? Will he lose it all and will the girl of his dreams lose her life? Adopted from sanitynvrfoundme.
1. Proud Death Hath Struck

**N/A: This chapter is purly written by sanityvrfoundme.**

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What if the tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark didn't end the way Shakespeare wrote it? What if Hamlet didn't die in his infamous duel but killed his uncle only to have his mother die at his feet? What if he barely escaped Elsinore with his life only to have Laertes follow him desperately seeking revenge? Read and find out.

As Hamlet, Prince of Denmark stood, panting, staring at his opponent, Laertes, he was smiling. The bloody body of his uncle Claudius lay only some feet away, neatly run through by his nephew's rapier, and Hamlet was smiling. Thoughts, millions of them, ran through his head like stampeding cattle, and yet one pushed the rest into the outer limits of his brain. "Nothing can hurt me anymore. Nothing at all."

He had avenged the death of his beloved father, as was evident by the corpse staring wide-eyed at the ceiling of the large chamber, and by his mother silently weeping in the corner, surrounded with many of her ladies-in-waiting, having known her new husband's treachery but inconsolable all the same. All the coutiers were whispering, now without a king to direct them not knowing whether to let Hamlet and Laertes battle it out, or to separate them bodily. Hamlet was sorely hoping the latter. He couldn't wait to feel his rapier pierce Laertes' flesh, to hear his dying scream, to watch Laertes beg for forgiveness at his feet before he finally slumped over.

But the main thought in his racing mind was that nothing could touch him anymore. Hamlet had gotten what he wanted. He had killed his uncle and was about to kill Laertes. Even if he died at Laertes' hands, he had still gotten his revenge. In all honestly, Laertes should be the one getting revenge. Hamlet had mistakenly murdered his father, causeing his sister Ophelia's madness.

Ophelia. He thought about her every day and every night, and the wounds her death had left imprinted on his heart had still not scarred over and were still open and bleeding. Hamlet missed her, her long blonde hair that fell over her face when she smiled, her hazel eyes so open yet so cleaver. Even her ringing laugh echoed in his heart. But he hhad to forget. It was his fault, entirely his fault that she was not sitting here, smiling at him yet worried, and his fault that he could not console her with a small wink and a flash of a grin, one that would say, "It's all right. Soon we will leave this place." It was entirely his fault that Laetes stood glaring at him, a glare that could pierce through steel.

"Ophelia," Hamlet whispered, and just for a second his foil drooped at his sie and he closed his eyes. That was all Laertes needed. With an animalistic belloe, he raced at Hamlet, who opened his eyes a second before his heart met the rapier.

"I am dead," he thought, and time stopped before weapon met fleash and a scream pierced the air. But it was not Hamlet's.

He fell to his knees and his mind registered only one thing before his mother fell to the ground, body in spasms, poisoned by her husband's trap intended for Hamlet. He was not completely untouchable, not as invincible as he had thought. For ther, at his feet, lay the bleeding, dying for of his best friend Horatio.

Hamlet did not remember screaming. He did not remember throwing himseld at Laertes and having to be restrained by several courtiers. The only picture in his mind was that of Horatio flailing desperately, falling, twisting to the ground. he untangled his arms from the strong grips that held him back and raced to Horatio's side, where his best friend lay, panting and bleeding from what looked like a painful chest wound.

"Horatio," Hamlet whispered, desperately trying not to choke up, and not wanting Horatio to hear the hidden sob in his voice. "You'll be okay. I'm calling for a doctor. Fetch a doctor!" Hamlet screamed almost hysterically, but the courtiers just look at each other and shuffled their feet. Withour a king to direct them, they were unhelpful and useless.

"Hamlet, it's alright," Horatio mumbled, the poison alreay working, and disorienting him. "I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me..." he trailed off. Hamlet leaped up to his feet, eyes wildlt scanning the room. "Get a DOCTOR!" But the crowd was motionless.

The young prince knelt by his friend's side again. "You're not going to die," he managed to say, almost as much to convince Horatio as to convince himself. He was struggling with the words and the tears were flowing freely now, and Hamlet could not even bring himself to wipe them away. And he knew now, as he heard Horatio's labored breathing and felt his heartbeat grow steadily softer, that his friend would not be with him much longer, yet he still had so much to say! The irony made Hamlet laugh bitterly through his tears: even if they had a year to say goodbye they would not have said enough, and now Hamlet had maybe a minute. He never thought it would come to this, kept hoping that those unsaid thoughts could remain thoughts and could always remain unsaid.

"I'm so sorry," Horatio whispered. "I don't know what to say, except that you where my dearest friend." He was crying now too. "Don't worry, my friend. You must run away and bury these horrible memories of Demark. Forget this country altogether. But please, Hamlet, don't bury my memories with my body. Remember me always."

Hamlet had to smile. Even in death, Horatio was still ever still poetic. "I will."

"Thank you," Horatio whispered, then he gave Hamlet one last smile and took his last breath. The prince knew it was all over, and gently set down the body. He remained, standing over it for a moment, before wiping away one last tear and drawiing his sword.

He stared at Laertes with an unsaid challenge in his smile. "I will kill you Laertes. But not now. We are in mourning, some of us." He was incredibly calm. The entire court stood on edge.

But no one expected Hamlet to run. He leaped sideways and ran for one of the secret passageways, so quickly that onlookers were almost tricked into thinking he has merely been a trick of light, never truly ther at all. But Laertes knew better, and with a mad cry, he chased after Hamlet.

The young prince knew he had a head start as he dashed along the corridor that led to his apartments. He knew he had to run, as Horatio had said, and the only flaw was that he had no idea where he was going. But that could wait. He shut and locked the passageway door and threw a chair against it as he arrived in his room.

What to pack, what to pack? He grabbed a sack and began to throw random items into it. Two traveling cloaks and some peason gard that would serve as a handy disguise. Hamlet threw all the money he had into a spare pair of boots and chucked that into the sack too. A small coin purse filled with gold pieces he put into a special pocket in the lineing of his black traveling cloak. At the last minute he darted to a hidden compartment in the wall and pulled it open to reveal a small vial of poison- vey useful when contemplating suicide- a small dagger with a cross etched into the handle that he strapped around his waist, and last but not least, a small portrait of his father and his father's rapier- Hamlet's most prized possession. It was beautiful and gleamed in the light, and the young man regretted hiding it in his traveling sack but he couldn't have himself be the object of attraction toward theives and brigands.

He was about to run out of the room, hearing Laertes pounding down the corridor, when he spotted a small portrait of Ophelia still lying on the hidden shelf. He raced toward it, then stopped with his fingers grazing the edge, almost in a trance. As the soldiers began to hack down the door, Hamlet grabbed the portrait, then put it back and leapt for the door. Just as the first soldier ran inside,he darted back towards it, snatched the small object from the shelf as well as a hefty stool, and made a desperate leap for the door, but the soldier was quicker. The prince rammed into the soldier, throwing the man off balance, and drew his sword, running the man through. He slammed the door shut and threw the stool against it, locking it at least for time being.

Finally out of the castle, Hamlet ran along the slush-covered ground, air freezing cold, yet the sun still beating down upon him. He had made his escape, but where to go now? The young man gazed out at the landscape surrounding him, then wrapped hic cloak around his shoulders. There really was only one direction to go in- any that led away from that prison he called Elsinore.

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**Okay, so, the next chapter will have a different writing style because I will be writing it. And the next chapter should be done in about a week, or so (that is, if I don't get in trouble with my parents and/or get lazy...). Until then, goodbye~!**

**With poisoned wine and gleaming rapiers,**

**America fangirl**


	2. Escaping Elsinore

***Disclaimer-I do not own Hamlet, Laertes, or any other of the extraordinary characters from Shakespeare's "Hamlet".***

**Before anything else, I would like to thank sanitynvrfoundme for letting me continue her wonderful fanfiction. This chapter, and the rest following it, will have a different writing style than the first chapter because I, America fangirl, will continue this story myself. And, with that out of the way, I present to you, the second chapter of A Tale of What Might Have Been, Escaping Elsinore.**

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Hamlet was running through a thick, snow-covered forest with Laertes hot on his heels. Both young men where breathing heavily at the moment. Both were begining to slow down their pace. Hamlet was thankful for the slippery, frost-covered ground because Laertes had fallen a few times and if it wasn't for that, he was sure that Laertes would have caught up to him by this time. He was frantically looking around his surroundings to see if there was a decent hiding place where he could conceal himself from his pursuers. He thought of losing Laertes in the trees by making a sharp turn as soon as possible. As this thought had crossed his mind, Hamlet heard Laertes desperately barking out orders. "Follow him!" At this, a large group of combinded guards and soldiers appeared, pursuing Hamlet at the quickest pace possible for them. Hamlet looked over his shoulders and reconized two familiar faces in the front of the group. He studied said faces and recalled excatly who they were. They were Marcellus and Bernardo, the two brunettes that Horatio intoduced to him as the guards who had first seen and showed him the ghost of his deceased father.

_Horatio._ Hamlet then, just for a second, stopped in his tracks. He thought of Horatio's last command. _"Don't worry, my friend. You must run away and bury these horrible memories of Denmark. Forget this country altogether. But please, Hamlet, don't bury my memories with my body. Remember me always."_ Just as this memory came to mind, he sprinted with a sudden burst of energy, determinded to fulfill Horatio's dying wish. Taken aback, Laertes and the other pursuers just stared wide-eyed at the prince as he ran at what seemed the quickest speed humanly possible. _One moment, his pace is slow and he's panting harder than I am, and, then, he runs with the energy of a thousand horses!_, Laertes thought, completely dumbstruck. He tried his best to catch up with Hamlet. But, try as he might, he always remained about thirty feet from the fleeing prince. Realizing this, Laertes stopped to catch his breath and noticed a guard that was right behind Hamlet. The guard went by the name of Francisco. Without any warning, Francisco landed a cut on Hamlet and said cut begun to soak Hamlet's black shirt sleeve. Seeing this, Laertes encouraged him to do more serious damage upon the bolting prince. "Use your rapier and kill him!" Hearing this, Hamlet ran into the trees, with Francisco trailing behind. Both men ran as fast as their legs could carry them.

Hamlet looked over his shoulders to see Francisco chasing him. He gave him a small frown upon recognizing his pursuer from seeing him on guard on nights he couldn't sleep. Suddenly, Hamlet tripped over a rock that was hidden by the snow. He rolled a couple of times until he came to a complete stop. He looked up to see Francisco was standing over him. Francisco slowly pulled out a sharp, gleaming dagger and held it over his head, ready to strike. Believing this to be his end, Hamlet accepted what was going to happen and looked directly at his soon-to-be-murderer with his ice blue eyes."If you are going to kill me, do it quickly." Lowering his dagger to his side, Francisco slowly shook his head and stepped aside to let Hamlet get up. He admired Hamlet's bravery and acceptance of his death. But, the main reason he didn't kill Hamlet was because he just couldn't bring himself to stab him. Hamlet was always a kind prince; until he went supposedly mad, that is. Hamlet looked straight into Francisco's hazel brown eyes. "Thank you," Hamlet whispered thankfully. Francisco smiled in reply and told him, "Go to the east," he pointed to said direction and continued, "and, I will lead your pursuers to the east, meanwhile you continue to run, my lord." Hamlet gave a broad smile to him. "Again, I thank you, good sir and-" Before Hamlet could finish his sentance, war-like cries could be heard. "My lord, you should leave. I will lead them away from you. Goodbye." Hamlet obeyed and ran with all of the energy he had left. Just before he disappeared in the trees, he said a last goodbye to his friend, "Goodbye, Good Sir. Take care." Francisco waved back.

Hearing Laertes appoaching, he made sure Hamlet was out of sight. "Where is Hamlet?" Laertes asked half-heartedly, looking left and right for said young man. "He went into to west." "Why have you not followed him?" Laertes asked, raising an eyebrow. Francisco had to quickly think of an excuse and did-a very sensible one. "I made an attempt to, but he tripped me and I fell upon my face. I was only able to see him run to the west, for I had a sharp pain in my leg." He held his leg to made his lie believable. "You did good," acknowledged Laertes. "Please go back to Elsinore." He turned to two fellow guards. "Will you take this man to Elsinore to recover?" Both men nodded. "Thank you." With that, the three men left, the other two men helping the "injured" Francisco walk.

Hamlet sat at the foot of a large tree, panting, and tightened the clock around his shoulders. He had been running for a long time and distance, he had to rest-the strange weather did not help either. The slight pain in his arm had grown into a very sharp pain. Hamlet took out his dagger and, with it, cut a peice of fabric from his shirt. He groaned in pain as he carefully wrapped the black peice of fabric around his wound. Once the peice of fabric was securely held together by a knot, Hamlet tried his best to register in what had happened in the last hour or so into his mind. _Uncle Claudius is dead_, Hamlet smirked, but, soon enough, his smile disappeared, _Mother and Horatio are dead as well, and Laertes is hunting me down, trying to kill me. Now, I need to think of a way to leave this horrid place._ He sighed. He couldn't think with the pain he felt. Both physically and emotionally. O_ that this too-too solid flesh would melt, thaw and- That's it!_ Hamlet remembered about the vial of poison hidden in his traveling sack. His fingers nimbly searched his sack until he found the vial. He was about to take the stopper off when he remembered why he began running in the first place. It was Horatio's dying wish. And it was his job-no, his duty- to fufill that wish. Immediately, he buried the vial in his sack once more. Hamlet then stood up and glanced at Elsinore for last time. He ran and ran through the think woods, not daring to look back. Once he felt the urge to, he glanced over his shoulder and could not see Elsinore. He finally stopped running. _I have escaped my horrible prison cell: Elsinore. Now, it is time to escape the real prison...Denmark._

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**So end of this chapter! I may take a while for the next chapter 'cause I like to take my time, read my work over and over so I can catch mistakes and edit stuff to make it better. Anyways, thank you for reading. See you next chapter!**

**With jesters' skulls and glittering crowns,**

**America fangirl**


	3. Too Much In The Sun

***Disclaimer-I don't believe that anyone on this site owns any of Shakespeare's characters. And I am no exception. But, I _do_ own my imagination. :) ***

**Hello~! I'm back! I hope I didn't keep you guys waiting for long! And thank you PhoenixGryffin and hetaliaforever123 for reviewing so quickly! I didn't expect to get my first reviews so soon! There are now new line breaks~! Before I forget, the characters will speak and think in a combination of modern English and Shakespearean English (but more Shakespearean, usually) so you can understand them easily and so I can get some practice writing a way similar to that of Shakespeare's time. Now, without further ado, what you clicked for~!**

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Hamlet winced in pain. He was leaning against the trunk of an oak tree that towered over other trees of the thick woods surrounding it. He was currently wearing the two clocks he had hastily packed earier because the cold, winter air was getting to him. _I cannot remember a time such as this where I am at the mercy of the harsh winter weather_, Hamlet realized, shivering violently. He looked through his memory of winter nights, trying to remember a night he spent in freezing temperatures, but all he remembered was sitting warm and toasty besides a blazing fire with his mother and, before he was murdered, his father. The snow was about a foot deep and it continued to grow deeper as more snow gathered together. Hamlet trudged through the snow, slightly struggling with each step. He had to find shelter, and quick because he could tell by the weather that a blizzard was to come soon. _'Tis the day I run from my prison and 'tis also the day a blizzard brews!_ The prince slightly sank into the soft-looking snow with each step. The bright, gleaming sun gave off less heat then before and almost completely disappeared into the horizon -or rather, to Hamlet, the treetops- , turning the blue, afternoon sky into a deep violet twilight.

Hamlet thought of decent places to find shelter. Then, he recalled a childhood memory involving the forest. He remembered that, when they were younger, he and Laertes would spend their spare time besides a lake. _Is it possible that a friendship in youth should disappear with the years_? He asked himself, looking at the pale blue-purple sky. He rummaged through his memories, desperately trying to recall where he and Laertes would spend their spare time skipping stones and speaking of innocent topics. Hamlet let his instinct guide him through the towering trees until he came to a lake. He looked thoughly at his location: besides a clear, blue, most likely frozen lake surrounded by numerous, enormous, leafless trees and very few flowers Hamlet vaguely reconized to be forget-me-nots.

Hamlet looked around his surroundings for a place to make shelter for the coming night. He looked to three evergreen trees whose branches suspiciously covered what looked like a pile of rocks. He slowly made his way to them, careful to avoid tripping over any rocks hidden by piles of snow, learning his lesson earlier. Once he reached the trees, Hamlet tried prying their entangled branches apart, but, try as he might, he did not have the brute strength to pull them apart. He had used all of his energy and was panting heavily. Once he regained his strength, Hamlet thought of an easier way to see what was on the other side of the entangled branches. He ducked his head and quickly made his way to the other side. He was happy to see the sight before him: a cave. The cave had a small entrance, but it looked big enough for him to be able to squeez his way in. To prove his theory, Hamlet crawled onto his knees, provisions held close to his chest. Once he sat in the cave, Hamlet looked around. The inside of the cave was very spaceous. He stretched out on the smooth floor to make sure that the space was large enough. _Perfect._

Hamlet crawled out of his shelter and began gathering small stones and twigs. He planned on making a small fire to keep warm. Once he had a handful of stones and another handful dry twigs, he went back into his cave. Hamlet set the stones in a petite circle and layed all of the sticks in it. He held two of the twigs -one in each hand- and rubbed them together as quickly as he could, hoping to get at least a small flame started. His attempt failed. Hamlet tried and tried until he got a small flame going. The flame slowly grew into a decent-sized fire.

While looking into the bright flames of the fire, Hamlet smiled. Memories of his childhood began to flow into his mind. Memories of carefree days, smiles from ear to ear, and laughter full of joy. His mind reeled back to the times before the tragic duel. His mind continued to wander before he changed the order of his death, sealing the fates of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, before he was "driven to insanity", and most of all, before his father was cruelly murdered. Hamlet recalled all the good times.

**Hamlet: "To be, or not to be" that is the-**

**America fangirl: Dude, we are waaaaaay past that act! *slaps Hamlet  
on the back* ****You need to stop living in the past, Hammie.**

**Hamlet: *glares angrily***

**America fangirl: *nervous chuckle* I'm going to go over there now. *runs away, panicking***

Francisco sighed and ran his hand through his deep brown hair. He didn't know how much longer he could keep up his act. He had just been able to fool Laertes while he was distracted. _Could I really fool him if he was fully alert? I don't know if I would be able to fool those who are able to see when a secret is what I keep. I will have to confess to someone, eventually_, Francisco thought. He knew how easily he would give in to pressure. He wondered if he had made a good choice._ Didst I perform the proper act, letting Hamlet flee in that way?_ He looked out of the near window into the clear, night-time sky. _Mayhaps it was good. Yet, in a way, it still be an act of bad. Should I have harmed him? Oh, what shouldst I done?_ His thoughts blocked him off from the rest of the world.

Francisco stared absent-midedly to the dark, star-filled sky, sitting on a black couch, for some time. Then, a voice called for him. "Francisco?" The speaker knocked twice on the wooden door before peeking into the room. "Francisco?" Francisco immediatly snapped out of his reverie at the sound of the light brown door whining as it was opened fully by Bernardo, a fellow guard. Upon seeing a close friend in the candle-lit room with him, he perked up. Bernardo was a man of average height, with jet black hair and shy, brown eyes that looked around their surroundings curiously. "Bernardo!" Francisco walked -correction; _limped_- his way to his companion and held his friend close in an embrace. He hadn't seen Bernardo since . . . that night.

Francisco had held his leg in slight imaginary pain, resulting in his friend worry. "No, no, no! I pray thee, sit." Bernardo, being the caring friend he was, ushered Francisco back to his spot on the couch with a concerned expression on his face. His friend just laughed in reply. "Thou knowest best that I am not one to let pain overwhelm me!" Bernardo rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, true that may be, yet, who knows, the pain may spurr against you at any moment. Now, sit you down, and do not budge." The brunette reluctantly obeyed, knowing that it was no use to argue any further. Once he was comfortable with his position, Francisco asked his companion, "How went the hunt for Hamlet" He was hoping that Hamlet wasn't caught. "Once you were gone, we went far into the east, only to find the moon begining to make it's cycle, not him. But, we shalt look for him once more on the morrow, according to Laertes, at the break of dawn, if, that is, we do not sleep so soundly as to be deaf to the crow of the cock," Bernardo informed, a smile appearing on his face as the last sentance was spoken.

Francisco nodded, a fake grin plastered to his face. Bernardo went on, sitting himself besides his fellow guard, "We will look to all directions, for Laertes will have it so." "Bernardo, dost thou believe that I may accompany you upon the search?" Francisco asked, a glimmer of excitedness in his hazle eyes. "You may but, I do not think of it as a cleaver idea. Thou art harmed! Remember?" "I recall quite well. But, as said before, pain cannot limit me." They argued for a while until Bernardo decided to just end it. "Fine. If thou art fine, as of the rising sun, Laertes may be made know of your ever-so-quick recovery and, with his permission, you may accompany us." Feeling accomplished, Francisco eagerly agreed to the idea, "Then, with speed I shall recover and join on your search!" Their conversation continued as it usual would.

**Francisco: *seeing America fangirl hiding* What art thou doing?**

**America fangirl: *leaving hiding spot* Hiding from Hamlet.**

**Francisco: Why, might I ask?**

**America fangirl: Because I'm a little scared of him...**

"Now," Bernardo started, standing up to leave, "the witching time of the night hath come. I must get myself to bed. I pray you, good night, sleep soothingly." Francisco immediatly responded, "As to you, Bernardo. And might you be seen upon the break of dawn?" "If I sleep enough to wake upon that time! So again, goodnight." "Goodnight!" With that said, Bernardo walked out and closed the door behind him.

Francisco looked into the star-filled sky once more, deciding it was about time he go to sleep as well. He blew out the candles in his room, leaving only one with a ruby-red flame. He made himself comforable and warm, a mountain of blankets forming on top of him. Once he was satisfied with the warmth, Francisco blew out the candle he left burning and fell into a deep sleep.

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**TTTAAAAAA DDDAAAAAAAAAAAAA~! I hope you guys liked it~! This chapter took a bit of planning and editing, but it's finally posted! And again, a huge thanks to PhoenixGryffin and hetaliaforever123 for the reveiws, they kept me motivated (and in my Hamlet mood). Also, another big thanks to hetaliaforever123 for beta reading this chapter for me. Dude, you have an eye for mistakes. The next chapter will, hopefully, be done in less time than this one took. So, until next time~!**

**With vials of poison and kings' ghosts,**

**America fangirl**


	4. The Search and Norwegians

***Disclaimer- I do not own Shakespeare's characters. *to herself* How many times do I have to comfirm that?***

**Bonjour, aloha, ciao, konnichiwa, ni hao, hej, privet, hoy, hallo, hola, hello~! I don't have much to say in this author's note. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't have anything to say...besides that I changed my username from "America fangirl" to "Cordelia Rosencrantz" (a virtual cookie to anyone who can figure out how I came up with this username (I bet nobody will get it because of the absolutly stupid way I came up with it)). So, without further ado, chapter three of A Tale of What Might Have Been~!**

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Bernardo groaned. The early light of dawn shined right onto his eyes. He was still very sleepy. His body refused to get up, but his mind forced it to. He slowly sat on his bed and looked out the window. He could see a large group of guards and soldiers standing at the front steps of Elsinore castle, each having a conversation with a few others. His eyes widened as he remembered why they where there in the first place. Bernardo hurriedly changed into the proper clothing for the day and stumbled into the hallway, a hand nimbly tying a bright cloak around his shoulders. He was racing through a hallway with enormous windows when he could see a familiar face in the crowd. He could see Francisco if he squinted his eyes. _Is he recovered fully in the course of a night?_ Bernardo thought. Then, he remembered that he was most likely late and continued to rapidly run his way to the front steps of the massive castle, tripping over his own feet as he went.

Once he was at the front steps of Elisnore, Bernardo stood for a few moments and panted, trying desperatly to catch his breath. From his spot, he saw Francisco standing with a man with pale skin, hair of the deepest shade of brown and honey eyes that sparkled with a glimmer of eagerness. Bernardo reconized this man to be Marcellus, a fellow guard and friend of theirs. Seeing his friend, Marcellus motioned to Francisco to follow him. "Hello, Bernardo~!" Marcellus greeted merrily. "Goodmorning. "As t-to you," Bernardo stuttered quietly, suddenly becoming shy. He was fine around Francisco, but when it came to others, he was quite and stuttered a bit. He was like a ghost at times; listening closely and keeping his opinions to himself.

Noticing this, Francisco sighed and mouthed, "It is but Marcellus! Screw your courage to the sticking place!" Bernardo tried to do so, but he wasn't so good with anyone besides those who where close to him. Instead all he said was, "Art thou ex-excited for the sear-search?" Being strangly obivious to Francisco's shyness, Marcellus happily replied, "Yes! And very much at that~!" Francisco and Bernardo laughed, broad smiles gracing their lips. Looking around, Marcellus continued, "Is Horatio to join us? Or did he run with Hamlet?" His companians' broad grins faded away into worried frowns. They nervously eyed each other. "Had you not heard?" Francisco asked, a gentle tone in his voice. "Heard what?" Bernardo and Francisco gulped, waiting on the other to tell Marcellus what happened. "Please, tell me what happened to Horatio!" Marcellus pleaded, his eyes looking glassy. Bernardo bit his lip and began, "Well, Horatio's, um, he's... he is..." His eyes began to water as well. Seeing this, Francisco finished for him. "Horatio is... dead." A silence was issued until Marcellus spoke up. "He's...dead..." Tears began to slowly roll down his cheeks. Even though he hadn't known Horatio as long or as well as Hamlet did, he spent enough time with him to know that he was kind, loyal, caring, intelligent, compassionate - the list goes on and on.

Francisco's and Bernardo's faces each held saddened and worried expressions. "When... When did he...depart this world... And by who..." Marcellus choked out between sobs. "Just the other night... By Laertes..." Francisco responded, sadly. "Tell me w-what ha-appened." Marcellus demanded, taking a step closer to the duo before him.

"The duel between Laertes and Hamlet is set," Bernardo narrated. "Horatio is worring upon Hamlet, who is confident of a win. But, Horatio was still worried, even when Hamlet assures him of his safety. He just shakes his head worriedly." Here, he sadly smiled. Horatio was always one to worry. "Leartes and Osric arrive. They are accompanied Claudius, Gertrude, and others, all to see the fencing match. Hamlet shakes hands with Laertes, hoping to make ammends. Laertes 'receives his offered love like love' and says to him that he would not wrong it. Pleased with himself, Hamlet asks for the foils to be brought. Laertes chooses one that seemed to be sharp-pointed. But, no one takes any notice. While Hamlet practices with his rapier, Laertes dips the tip of his into a vial of a liquid unknown. Claudius asks for drink to be brought. The match begins. After many dodges and blocks done by Laertes, Hamlet lays a hit upon him. After much bickering, the hit is pronounced a hit. The crowd applaudes and the victor of the round bows graciously." He held back a few tears, noticing this, Francisco continued for him. "Claudius takes a drink of a cup. He drinks very little of it, and tells Osric to offer it to Hamlet, who waves him away. He says that he'll drink after the next match. Pleased with his answer, Claudius takes his seat besides Gertrude. The next round commences. Laertes almost hits Hamlet, but he dodges with grace. Hamlet then quickly advances and lays a hit upon his arm. The audience applauds him. Angered, Laertes charges to him with his rapier, exclaiming, 'Have at you now!' Hamlet turns to see him and blocks his blow. They fight gracefully, their movements timed perfectly and their skills are used wisly. Each man has a different expression. Hamlet's is calm and seriene. While Leartes' is angered and pained. The court tries to stop them, even Claudius rises. They are nearing the pair cautiously. As this happens, Gertrude, who is surrounded by her many ladies-in-waiting, wearily takes a drink of the wine Claudius offered to Hamlet. Then, out of nowhere, Hamlet's rapier meets Claudius' flesh. His jerks away and screams in pain. The crowds takes many steps back, and Gertrude weeps. Hamlet smirks. He and Laertes fight a bit more until Hamlet suddenly stands still. Then, Laertes takes action. Just before Laertes is within rapier length of him, Hamlet closes his eyes and waits for the rapier to meet his body, prepared to meet his end. But, the unexpected happens. Just as Gertrude falls to the ground, Horatio's shreiks meet the air. Hamlet runs to his side and calls for a doctor. Not one person moves. Again, he calls for a doctor. Horatio's breath becomes very labored. He begins slowly fades away. Hamlet assures him that he will live. Horatio disagrees, and tells him to leave Denmark, to forget the past, but not to bury the memories of him along with his body. Once Horatio... departs, Hamlet rises and makes a threat to Leartes. With that over and done, he runs off. And here we are now."

Marcellus blinked, and slowly took a few steps back. "I-I have...forgotton something inside... Let me retrive it." With that said, he disappeared into the castle, many eyes upon him. Francisco turned to his companion. "He will not rejoin us, correct?" "As correct as the stars are fire," Bernardo comfirmed.

**Macbeth: Music is the sound of love! So play on, Macduff, play on!**

**Cordelia Rosencrantz: You do know that that isn't your line, right?**

**Macbeth: Is it not truly what I say?  
**

**Cordelia Rosencrantz: Nope.**

An hour or so had passed since Marcellus had ran off into the castle. Francisco and Bernardo had engrossed themselves in contervation, still worried about their companion. They were talking about guard shifts when Francisco pointed to Laertes. "Say, Bernardo, who is that in conversation with Laertes?" Bernardo looked to see Laertes in a conversation with what seemed like a Norwegian woman. "Perhaps she is an important part of the royal court of Norway," he suggested. "Perhaps I shall ask her~" "I do not think of that as a grand idea..." Bernardo didn't feel like Francisco's idea was a good one. He also felt something a little off about the Norwegian. "Look she is out of coversation! Let us speak to her!" Francisco informed merrily. Just as he ran off to speak to the Norwegian, Bernardo realized what seemed off about the Norwegian and called to his friend, "No! Come back!" But, before he knew it, he was racing after his companion, who was now facing the Norwegian.

Francisco introduced himself. "Hello, madame, I am called 'Francisco' and I am a guard. I was pondering over the idea of you being part of the royal court of Norway." By now, Bernardo was right besides him, trying to get his attention without making any noise, and epically failing. "I, in fact, am," the Norwegian answered. "What part?" he eagerly inquired. "I am the prince Fortinbras."

Bowing hastily and paling, Francisco hurriedly explained himself in the worst way possible. "Prince, say you? Well, when I called you by 'madame' I did not mean to imply that I thought you as woman! It is... It is just one of the ways of the Danish!" He grinned sheepishly as Bernardo lightly smacked his own forehead. _That be the worst excuse to be made_, he thought. _Fortinbras - A prince! - would never believe such a-_

Fortinbras interrupted Bernardo's thoughts with a sigh. "My cousin never told me such strange ways of the Danes..." Bernardo's jaw visably dropped, while Francisco when back to merrily asking questions. He smiled. "A Dane for a cousin? Please say whom!"

"My cousin is Hamlet, the Danish prince who, most unfortunatly, was drivin to insanity..." Fortinbras said glumly. Both guards pitied the Norwegian. "We shall now let you be on your way," Bernardo politely said, dragging Francisco away before he could say anything eles.

**Marcellus: Something's rotton in the state of Denmark!**

**Cordelia Rosencrantz: *sarcastically* No kidding, Sherlock.**

Marcellus sat up on his cot. "Why are Horatio's supposed 'friends' chasing after Hamlet, when it was his dying wish for him to leave this place?" he asked the walls surrounding him. "Perhaps I shalt not go... In memory of the good Horatio..." Suddenly, Marcellus got an idea. "Or, perhaps, I shalt go! That's it! I shalt go to make sure Hamlet is not captured! 'Tis a brilliant idea!" Then, just as quickly as he thought of the idea, he thought of a flaw. "But, how shall I hide my intentions..." He thought for a moment. "With my sadness, of course! I shall mourn at many times, for that is my true will! So, I shall with speed to the search!" With that said, he ran out of his room and to the main entrance of Elsinore Castle. Just before he opened the enormous door, he steadied his breath. "And now, to never find Hamlet."

* * *

**Yay~ I finally finished this! And, as you guys noticed, Hamlet didn't show up this chapter because nothing important was to happen to him until the next chapter. Sorry if the last part seems a little rushed/bad but I finished typing this yesterday, right after my mom said to get off my laptop in ten minutes. Yeah, well, I don't have anything eles to say here, so, bye~**

**With virtual cookies and Norwegian princes,  
Cordelia Rosencrantz**


	5. Friendship is Constant

***Disclaimer-Well, this got real old, real fast... As I have said/typed before I do not own any of Shakespeare's creative, moving, heart-breaking, yet sometimes humorous works. (I'm just that much of a Shakespeare geek~ XD)***

**I'm SO sorry for the wait! I feel so terrible! *le face-desk* I hope you guys forgive me. Anyways, on with the fic~**

* * *

"Any sign of him yet?" Laertes asked, looking for any signs of Hamlet himself. He and a group of guards were looking for Hamlet in the east, while other groups looked to the north, south, and west. Hearing Laertes, a young man answered him. "Yes, sir. There are prints of a man besides a lake of clear blue in our area." Laertes looked at him with a confused face. "The lake near here?" The young guard nodded. "One which has a clearing surrounding it, and the ice seeming very thick?" The young man nodded again, but slower this time. "Exactly the one. Would you like for me to lead you to it?" Laertes shook his head. "No need. I know the way." With that, the guard nodded and walked into the crowd.

Laertes automatically walked deeper into the thickening forest, remembering the way as clearly as he did the back of his hand. Meanwhile, his group followed frantically, trying to keep track of Laertes, who walked as if in a reverie that consisted of only happy thoughts.

"Why does he seem so dazed? He walks in a way similar to that of one who walks while he dreams," a certain brunette whispered the men walking on either side of him.

"Yes, he sways ever so slightly as he takes steps," the one on the left agreed, watching Laertes carefully with his honey brown eyes.

Seeing the man's worried gaze, the man to the right assured him. "Bernardo, I see no need to worry for him. He is perfectly well."

Bernardo looked to one that spoke to him and replied, "I know he is in health, Francisco, yet, I worry for him still. He is in a dream-like state and-"

The brunette between Francisco and Bernardo interrupted him, "I agree with Francisco, Laertes shall be fine. There shalt not be but one mishap with him!"

"Marcellus, I agree with you, surely, but the feeling won't go away..."

Marcellus just mentally rolled his eyes with a slight grin plastered to his face, forgetting why they were in the forest for the moment. "Bernardo, as we have said before, do not worry. Do not tense."

Bernardo finally gave in. "For the moment, I shall not." Then, under his breath he added, "For the sense of worry is only to come back..."

After smiling triumphantly, Francisco spoke up. "Laertes does not normally seem in a dream-like state, correct?" The others nodded. "Then, what triggers this strange way, now?" Bernardo pondered for a moment. _Mayhaps, a memory hast come to haunt him_, he thought, not bothering to speak his thoughts aloud. Meanwhile, Marcellus shrugged, not having a clue as to what to think of it.

"There is no way of knowing, but to ask. Which I believe to be an idea most terrible," Marcellus commented after a short silence was issued.

"I agree with you on that matter. For, what if, perchance, we make him think of a horrible memory that is eating away at his soul! Then, the situation will be worse off!" Francisco nearly yelled. His companions burst into laughter at the way he spoke with a melodramatic tone. They were used to the way he exaggerated, but it always managed to make their faces light up with smiles, even at the most terrible of times.

Though, Francisco didn't think of it as funny. "Why do you laugh?" he whined, only to earn more laughter from his friends. He pouted, and continued, "Laugh as I speak of a serious matter! That is- Oof!" After bumping into the man who was standing in front of him, he fell back and was caught by Bernardo, who was struggling to hold him up while standing steadily.

"Please stand," Bernardo huffed. "You are much heavier than one would have thought of you to be." Hearing this, Francisco stood on his feet and chuckled out an apology.

Once many of the gazes set on Francisco were averted, the trio looked around, noting that Laertes had finally stopped walking. The trio also noted that they were standing at the beginning of a clearing that held an icy lake in the middle. Francisco stood on his toes to get a good look and admired the view. "'Tis wonderous!"

"Yes, 'tis very wonderous," Marcellus agreed, also admiring their surroundings, while Marcellus nodded away.

"We have found tracks here," a voice called out. "He shouldn't be very far for these track seem fresh still!" The entire group looked ahead and saw that it was a senior guard speaking to them. The man continued, "Now, I wish for you to gather with two others, and form a group! With your companions, search for our... target. Please report if but one thing seems strange. That shall be it." With that said, many groups of three were formed. Marcellus, Francisco and Bernardo had formed one group and were sent to look near the edge of the surrounding woods.

Once they had been walking a good ten minutes, Francisco heard something rustling in the bushes. "Didst you hear that?"he questioned his companions, who were walking a few feet ahead of him.

"I heard no such noise," Marcellus answered. Francisco looked he Bernardo to see him nodding his head. "Mayhaps, it was only a figment of that widening fantasy that you own," Bernardo suggested quietly.

"No, I surely heard a noise," Francisco argued. Then, the rustling had begun again, but the noise it caused was louder this time. "Now! Hear it! It comes from there!" He pointed to where he believed the sound came from. The others looked to where he pointed to: an evergreen bush.

It shook and shook, causing Francisco to tremble. The bush had begun to shake so hard that Francisco couldn't handle it anymore. Without warning, he ran off. Just a few seconds after he ran off, terrified, the maker of the noise stepped out. It turned out that the noise was made by a squirrel.

After bursting into laugher of what had frightened Francisco off, Marcellus asked, "In what way did he become a guard of Elsinore when he shakes and runs in fear of small things?" In reply, Francisco sighed and tried to hide an amused smile. "In a way, I know not." With that said, they made their way to find Francisco.

A solid five minutes after Francisco ran off, Marcellus and Bernardo were walking through the forest when another rustling bush could be heard. Both men looked to where the sound had come from as they stood frozen in their tracks until Bernardo lightly laughed, "I believe that the maker of the noise was, yet again, but a small creature!"

Almost immediately, Marcellus agreed, "Yes, but of course!" He stopped for a moment to see if there were any signs of Francisco around. Bernardo had walked a good three yards ahead by now.

Suddenly, a bush began shake violently. Marcellus was glued to his spot. He saw that the bushes had parted, and a hand had reached out to grab something. Marcellus' eyes widened as he saw the familiar dark hair and icy blue eyes of Prince Hamlet come from the shadows. Their eyes ment for only a moment before Hamlet rushed back into the trees.

Marcellus just stood still in shook. He had just seem Hamlet, peeking out from the bushes. Bernardo had noticed that his companion was looking into the bushes, and walked up to him, concerned. "What is it that you have just seen?" Marcellus quickly answered, "Nothing more than another creature."

Bernardo just nodded. "If that is all, let us search for our frightened friend."

Marcellus agreed, and they were on their way. But, he wondered if he was planning on doing the right thing, planning on not saying anything about Hamlet, that is. For the time being, he just brushed off the thought and began looking for more signs of Francisco.

**Horatio: *With a broken voice* Now cracks a noble heart! *As a last good-bye* Good night sweet prince!  
****And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! *He lays Hamlet's body on the ground gently***  
**Cordelia Rosencrantz: *Sobbing a little* Just... Just keep reading...**

Marcellus sighed in relief. He had never known how hard it was to be questioned about something he wished to hide, but, now, the pressure was known by him.

Marcellus did his best to conceal the fact that he had seen Hamlet in the woods, and thought he had done a good job at it. But, he couldn't help think,_ What if I had made it known of me concealing something to another without knowledge?_ He couldn't help but doubt himself a bit, for it was a small part of his nature.

"Just... It is nothing to worry over... I just must keep calm..." he told himself. He turned to see a familiar face standing at the door way.

"What is nothing to worry over?" asked a curious Francisco, raising an eyebrow. His eyes went without that glint of joy in them for once. For Marcellus, it was un-nerving. He was just so accustomed to Francisco being the one to brighten everyone's mood, but now, he was just standing there, eyeing him suspiciously.

Marcellus quickly thought over his options: _Tell what is troubling me? absolutely not... Just run? No, find me they will..._ He thought some more, _Lie as to hide my true intentions? Yes, but with a guilty conscience._ Marcellus answered Francisco as naturally as he could, "It is just... I am in grieving still... And searching for Hamlet seems to do more damage upon my weary soul..." _What am I saying! I lie... I lie to a friend whom is trusting!_ he mentally scolded himself.

Francisco's voice softened as he spoke, "Oh... I am sorry for intruding upon you like this..."

A silence was issued. Then, Francisco coughed, and continued, "A few others and I planned to take a stroll, and we were pondering over if you'd like to join..."

Marcellus, happy that the atmosphere was no longer unsociable, replied seconds later, "That would be nice. I shall join you, then."

While they walked out to meet with the others, Francisco tried to shake the feeling that Marcellus had more to tell than he did say yet, it would go away, only to come back, seconds later. _Marcellus is in a fine state. He is well,_ he assured himself. But, he just couldn't shake the feeling away. Instead, he just kept his mind on other matters.

**Macbeth: Life is like a walking shadow; a player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage,  
and, then, is heard from no more! It is a tale told by an idiot! Full of sound and fury signifying  
nothing...  
Cordelia Rosencrantz: Why does this make so much sense to me...?**

Hamlet trudged weakly through the snow. He had been walking for hours, hoping to find a small village or anywhere where he could eat and sleep comfortably. After lying on the solid rock floor of his previous shelter for what seemed like days had caused his back and neck to become very sore, making it difficult to carry his heavy bag, which was sloppily slung over his shoulder.

The path that Hamlet was on was lit up by the bright moonlight, and, with that light, he could see the outline of what seemed like the roof of a barn. He squinted, wanting to make sure that his eyes were not playing tricks upon him; which they weren't. With relief, he made his way as quickly and quietly as he could to the barn, hoping that no one had saw him.

One he got their, Hamlet noticed that the barn was accompanied to only a few small houses and other wooden buildings. He figured that he had stumbled upon a village-and a very small one at that. He wondered whether or not the should stay in the area for a few nights, and decided against it, knowing that he would most certainly be caught.

Hamlet trudged closer to the barn, and saw that the door hadn't been locked. _By chance, the owners will forgive me of my trespassing, if I stay for nothing but a night_, he reasoned. With that thought out, he slowly opened the enormous door. It creaked eerily, making Hamlet quicken his pace. Once he stood inside, he quickly closed the door and looked around. He saw a many farming tools crowded to the right, and a large pile of hay to his left. After looking around some more, Hamlet decided that he could sleep on the golden brown hay.

Hamlet gathered much of the hay into one spot, and set his bag to the side. He let gravity drop him onto his soft make-shift bed. Feeling his eyelids getting heavier, he fell into a needed sleep.

**Shylock: This kindness I will show. Go with me to a notary, seal me there, ****your single bond; and, in merry sport,  
****if you repay me notion such a day, ****in such a place, such sum or sums are, express'd in the condition, let the ****forfeit be  
nominated for an equal pound of your fair flesh, to be cut off and** **taken, in what part of your body pleaseth me.**

**Cordelia Rosencrantz: *has...weird thoughts* No comment...**

The next morning, Hamlet awoke to the morning suns beams and the voices of what seemed like children.

"Shouldst have I told mine father?" asked the voice of a young male.

"Yes, you shouldst! Have you not thought?" a second male voice exclaimed.

"Shhh," the first voice hushed. "Do not speak so loud as to awaken him!"

_Him? They must be speaking of me,_ Hamlet thought.

"Of course! Because one does not wish to wake a stranger who slumbers in their family's barn!" the other said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hamlet looked up and saw two boy who looked around the age of twelve. One had raven black hair and light brown eyes, while the other had light brown hair and olive green eyes. They each were to engrossed in their conversation to notice Hamlet staring at them with confused blue eyes.

The boy with olive-green eyes spoke up, "What would have thou done if in my position, Adam?"

In reply, the boy who Hamlet recognized to be Adam, exclaimed loudly, "What would I have done, Dmitri? I would have told your father! That's what!"

Dmitri hushed Adam again, "Shhh. Do not wake... him..." Both boys had caught sight of Hamlet now. Quickly, Dmitri got hold of a nearby stick and shoved Adam behind him. Then, he threatened Hamlet, "Do not near us! I will strike!"

Hamlet could not help but chuckle. "Strike? With nothing but a mere twig? Do not trouble your self."

A shade of pink rushing up to his cheeks, Dmitri continued to yell. "St-stay away! I-" Feeling that Adam had tapped his shoulder, he turned to him and glared daggers at him. "Um, excuse me if you would, I believe-"

Dmitri cut him off and harshly whispered back, "I could handle this!"

"No, Dmitri, I must say of something urgent."

"What might it be?" Adam motioned for Dmitri to come closer, which he did, and whispered in his ear. Hamlet didn't have a clue as to what he was saying, but he did catch a few glances that went towards him.

Blushing, Dmitri timidly apologized, "I am sorry, Prince Hamlet. I was startled upon seeing you."

Standing up, and brushing off his clothes, Hamlet replied, "No need."

Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Dmitri asked, "Why are you here? Within the walls of my family's barn?" Adam nudged him, and gave him a glare. In response, Dmitri just shrugged and said, "I wish to know."

Hamlet chuckled. "Ask, you might. Though it may not be of best politeness, I shall answer. I'm sure you have heard of my deeds." Dmitri and Adam both nodded vigorously. "Well, Laertes was to kill me, but he decided to aim upon my friend, and took his life." Hamlet looked to the ground. He didn't want to think about what happened.

Both boys sensed this, and Dmitri spoke with sympathy. "Oh, I am ever sorry for the loss..." He couldn't say much, he felt guilty for asking.

"Oh, do not fret. I'm fine." Hamlet looked out a nearby window, and continued, "I now must be on my way."

He stood up, and just when he was about to open the barn doors, Dmitri quickly ran to his side.

"Wait, let me give to you something that may help you on your journey." With that, Dmitri ran to one corner of the large barn, and came back holding a small bag. "It is not much," he began, handing the prince the sack, "but it may be of some assistance to you."

Inside, there was a small portion of food, enough for one or two days. Smiling, Hamlet bobbed his head up and down. "Thanks be to you for this gift. Now, I must go for I must leave this place to start anew in this cruel world. Again, thank you." With that said, he went off down the dirt path, thinking about how the two boys he just met seemed strangly familiar.

* * *

**OH MEIN GOTT! This is long by my standards! I'm sorry for this chapter being rushed in a few places and for the wait, like I said before, I was grounded for a few days, and then it got a little busy with my family coming over, like, every other day. Also going to my uncles house for what, to me, was a long time.**

**Thanks for the reveiws~ I seriously appreciate everything I hear~**

**hetaliaforever123, good luck with all your OCs~ You have a ton! And tell 'em I said, "hi", 'kay!**

**Anywho, thanks for reading~! Until next time~**

**With strange wake-ups and secrets, **  
**Cordelia Rosencrantz**


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